


Yellow Eyes

by Nicor_Fyrweorm



Series: Equals One [25]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18742189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicor_Fyrweorm/pseuds/Nicor_Fyrweorm
Summary: It has been a long orn. You were damaged. You need rest.That's what Windcharger tells himself as he walks back to his apartment, trying to ignore the yellow optics fixed on his back plating.





	Yellow Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Post-series.
> 
> Migrated from FanFiction.Net

_It has been a long orn. You were damaged. You need rest._

That's what Windcharger tells himself as he walks back to his apartment, trying to ignore the yellow optics fixed on his back plating. 

He wishes he could just transform and drive away. 

But he can't, the Medic said the replaced gear would need some time to fully integrate with his frame, and he shouldn't transform until at least after a recharge cycle to let it do so. 

He turns a corner and the sensation vanishes. 

So, he risks a look over his shoulder plate. 

The lamppost goes black, and there are suddenly yellow optics in the shadows. 

He turns around and hurries his pace, not even trying to adjust the settings of his optics. He knows he won't see anything in the darkness. 

_It has been a long orn. You were damaged. You need rest._

Finally, his apartment building appears around the corner. 

As soon as the door closes behind him, he stops feeling the gaze on his back plating, but he doesn't slow down as he rushes up the stairs. 

The lights in the building are bright. The door to his apartment is locked. 

He gets inside and immediately engages the security measures once more, only then allowing himself to relax as he lets out a tremulous sigh and rests his forehelm against the locked door. 

_It has been a long orn. You were damaged. You need rest._

He turns around, and the last thing he sees are yellow optics.


End file.
